


In Case of Emergency

by Cordelia_Sun



Category: Farscape
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Season/Series 01, Smut, Starburst Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordelia_Sun/pseuds/Cordelia_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Aeryn are trapped in the flax with no life support, no plans and no options... well, I guess they do have <em>one</em> option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Case of Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Written for terrafirmascapers.com Starburst Challenge #85 and was inspired by John and Aeryn's habit of trying to get it on when they're about to die (a.k.a. Emergency Sex) and my absolute conviction that it would have been _much_ better if D'Argo had taken another, say, 15-20 minutes to rescue them from the Flax.
> 
> The beginning and end contains dialogue direct from the show.

_“What did you see?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“You know… after the kill shot when you were dead. Did you see the things humans believe? The light. Friends.”_

_“No. No, I didn't. All I saw was black. I don't know, maybe Sebaceans are right. Maybe there's nothing after this maybe... Maybe I wasn't supposed to die that time.”_

_“Well... maybe you'll find out for certain this time.”_

 

~*~

 

John Crichton is going to die.

He's certain of it now. Almost. Almost certain he's going to die far from home; away from everything and everyone he knows and loves. Trapped in the Uncharted Territories equivalent of a mini van billions of miles away from his Dad, his sister, pizza, baseball... chocolate.

He is going to die beside Aeryn.

Right.

They’re huddling together against the chilled air of the transport pod. John has an arm wrapped around Aeryn and can he feel her shoulders shuddering under his hand even through the thick gloves of the EV suit. He tries, and fails, to stop himself from shaking too.

Aeryn fixes him with this wide-eyed solemn stare; studying him carefully. Serious. Close. Her attention flickers to his lips and lingers for a moment before tracking unsteadily back up to his eyes. There's moisture glistening in her eyelashes and its presence stuns him. John is man enough to admit that Aeryn Sun scares the crap out of him most of the time, but there are these moments, brief glimpses of spun glass fragility, and somehow they hit him harder than any pantak jab.

Aeryn swallows, sucks in a deep breath and leans in.

Slow.

Heart stopping.

And then her lips are on his and her tongue snakes between his teeth into his mouth; warm and soft in shocking contrast to the chill of their skin. After a heartbeat pause he curls his other arm around her waist and pulls her in as close as their bulky EV suits allow. The kiss descends into a frantic, breathless, mash of lips and teeth and tongue until moments later Aeryn rolls him--actually _rolls_ him--and they tumble to the floor with a heavy thump. Aeryn drives him onto his back and pinions him between her powerful peacekeeper thighs.

She pulls at his suit, tearing at the straps and fastenings as her lips pull into a twisted grimace. John’s head spins with the intensity. His brain doesn't believe what's happening, but his hands have got it all figured out and work on auto-pilot at the fastenings of Aeryn’s suit. Frustration wails through John's mind at their awkward and cumbersome coverings; did these people never hear of zips! Velcro! Aeryn wrenches off her neck piece and skins out of the arms of her suit. She clambers from him to kick off her boots and wriggle her legs free with remarkable efficiency.

Thoughts ricochet through John’s mind as he battles with his own clothing; we need to conserve air; we’re going to die anyway. We need to save our energy; we’re going to die anyway. We need protection; we’re going to die anyway. It’s too damn _cold_ for this; we’re going to die anyway. When Aeryn flings his stolen Calvins in an unceremonious arc across the transport pod his final lucid thought is that he should snag them back while he has the chance. A man should die in possession of all of his underwear!

Then Aeryn pounces and pushes him against the bulkhead. He's still half dressed; shirt off, but boots on and the EV suit is tangled round his ankles.

“Ow!” he yelps as his head bounces with a sickening smack against the wall, “damn it woman, are you trying to kill me!”

Aeryn sinks into John’s lap as he clutches at his ringing skull. She grabs his head in both hands and pulls him down to inspect it for damage. For a second John thinks she’ll kiss it better, but he knows better than that; Aeryn's not the kiss it better type.

"I can’t see anything wrong with you." she announces with an unsympathetic huff, "what are you complaining about?"

“I don't know; maybe you trying to knock my brains out!” A faint hysterical giggle escapes his lips as it occurs to him that was _exactly_ what he was hoping for. Her inspection has pushed his forehead right up against her bare breasts and he is suddenly very, very aware that he’s being straddled by a completely naked Sebacean.

“Oh, who would notice!” Aeryn says as she crouches back; hands still bracketing the sides of his face. She blows out a heavy breath; the frantic, animalistic lust draining from her, “sorry.”

John accepts this rare apology with an easygoing shrug and shake of his head. He rests his forehead against hers and they share a wry smile; a moment of silent calm.

This whole situation is ridiculous and their response to it beyond foolish. Except... except this may be the last few minutes of their lives and, all things considered, John can’t think of any other way he'd rather spend them. With this thought he slides his hands cautiously around Aeryn’s waist and draws her to him.

“What do you think?” he asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “you think we should do this?”

Aeryn rolls her eyes and kisses him, slow this time and thorough. John wonders if she’s doing this just to keep him quiet--acting on his ‘more flies with honey’ advice--and decides, if so, he’s fine with that. Her tongue dips into his mouth and her hips hitch, just a fraction, causing a slow ratcheting of John’s awareness of exactly where she resting in his lap. How they’re separated by nothing more than the thin fabric of the black PK issue shorts liberated from Moya's stores. She smells good. Well, she smells of acetylene, but under that is a soft feminine scent that is all Aeryn; sweet and familiar.

When she pulls away she runs the palms of her hands over his chest and licks her lips as if she's checking what he tastes like.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says tracing circles across the soft skin between her shoulder blades. He’s no stranger to Aeryn’s body; he’s found himself pressed up against her on more than one occasion and somehow his hands always find their way to interesting places with minimal input from his brain.

But this... this is something else.

Everywhere he touches she’s porcelain smooth and cool in the chilled air. Everywhere except where she's pressed against him sharing the warmth of his flesh. When she leans back, allowing him the opportunity to properly look at her, he can see goosebumps prickling over her ghost pale skin. He suppresses the urge to give her a vigorous warming rub all over; instead he slides his hands up her ribs to cup her full soft breasts. He envelops them in his large hands and the brush of her erect nipples against his palms sends his mind into a tailspin.

Before he can recover Aeryn pulls away and crouches back in his lap. The look she's giving him is identical to the one she wears before mounting a combat mission and it’s kinda scary. He flinches as the tips of her fingers hook into the waist band of his shorts and she tugs them over his hips. John suddenly remembers that, to Aeryn, he’s an alien and, while he can see there’s no appreciable difference in the females, he has no idea what she might expect from a male. He’s not normally one to be nervous about the ordnance--so to speak--but he’s just not used to this kind of forthright, goal oriented approach to sex and it’s thrown him.

“Uh, yeah,” he says with a hesitant half laugh, “it's pretty damn cold in here.”

“Your point?” Aeryn says looking directly in his eyes and John doesn’t know what to say; he never can tell when she’s messing with him. Her lip curls into sardonic smirk that does nothing to sooth his nerves.

But, when she settles back to study him, the dispassionate mask slips with a slight widening of her eyes. She shoots an unexpected coy glance up through her lashes and a small smile plays across her lips, which she bites away with a graze of teeth. John responds with a cat-like grin, his usual cocky self-assurance surfacing in the face of her obvious approval with the available hardware. The confidence lasts until she reaches down and wraps her cool slim fingers around his cock and dexterous flex of her thumb over his tip makes his toes curl inside his boots.

“Oh God, Aeryn.” he gasps.

Aeryn flashes him a wide, slightly terrifying, grin and pushes her fingers into her mouth, covering them with saliva before wrapping them back around his shaft. John bites hard on his lip and a sharp hiss slips through his teeth; these Peacekeeper tactics are just not _fair_.

When another deft flick of her fingers over his glans rends a grunt from his lips John decides he's not letting Aeryn have all the fun. He pulls her into a hard, deep kiss; trapping her hand and his erection between their bellies. He buries one hand into her hair and works the other between their bodies; exploring until the tips of his fingers brush through soft hair and graze against soft slick flesh. Aeryn buries her face into his neck and now it's her turn to groan as he pushes one finger, then an another, inside her. John smiles and presses a soft kiss to her temple.

She shifts a little, making space for her hands to move, and John takes the opportunity to brush his thumb against her clit. The response is immediate and gratifying. A thick moan rolls from her throat; muffled as she scrapes her teeth against his shoulder. Then there's only the sound of their heavy breathes in the thinning air, blooming into moans drawn out by the skillful sweeps of their hands and fingers. John tries to control his amazement at what she’s letting him do to her. At what she was doing to him.

And it’s not enough; what John wants is to be inside her.

He withdraws his fingers. Aeryn growls in protest and her hand flexes her displeasure against his cock and doesn't let go. John, ignoring the growl and the hand, slides his palms along the backs of her thighs and lifts her. She catches on to his intentions with a little _"Oh,"_ of understanding and a grin. With a wet kiss pressed to John's lips she guides him inside her. They share a soft, awed exhalation as she sinks down onto him. The engulfing sensation of being buried inside her, so warm and tight and wet, is mind melting.

Aeryn begins to move against him, using her crouched stance to curl her body in slow, deep grinding rolls of her hips as John helps support her weight with his hands. She wraps her arms around his neck and envelops him in an all consuming kiss; drawing out his bottom lip and biting gently with her perfect teeth.

When she tips back her head, her eyes are closed and her jaw is clenched in fierce concentration. The last time he saw her this intense she was flying her Prowler and John thinks, for one hysterical moment, that she's piloting him just the same; using his body in relentless pursuit of her target. Her knees grip tight and she's digging her fingers hard into his shoulders. Buried deep inside her he can feel her muscles contract around him. She pushes deeper and harder and faster until she cries out; her body arching and shuddering and John watches in wonder as she topples over the edge. Mission accomplished. Target destroyed.

It's all John can do to stop himself falling with her.

She stills and gazes at him with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide, a soft smile playing across her lips. John reaches up and brushes a tendril of hair from her forehead, damp with cooling sweat despite the bitter chill of the pod. He’s never seen her looking so damn happy and relaxed. It suits her; elevating her idiosyncratic beauty into breathtaking radiance.

He grips her hips with his hands and urges her to keep moving. Aeryn wrinkles her nose and quirks an amused brow as she gives a sharp shocking rock her of her pelvis. She splays her hands out on his chest and grinds against him. Her concentration now fixed on him; she varies her speed, rhythm and those mind-melting pulses; watching his reactions and chasing his keening, jerking, responses like the last desperate fighter of an enemy attack squad. It’s not long before John’s thin self-control dissipates in a sharp snap of exploding starburst that knocks the breath from him.

“Oh God!” he grunts as he comes and digs his fingers hard into the flesh of her hips.

He tips back his head and rests against the bulkhead, gulping for air. When he slits open his eyes Aeryn is looking at him with a wry smile.

“Not completely useless then?” he asks.

“No, not completely. You would say...” she frowns and tilts her head, “slicker ‘n snot?”

John laughs and pulls her to him; wrapping her in his arms he presses a kiss to her forehead. She's shivering, and he runs his hands over her trying to rub some warmth back into her skin.

It's harder to breath and John’s pretty sure that has nothing to do with their exertions. He wonders how much air they have left. They should get dressed; his traitorous brain supplies him with a vision of the macabre tableau they'd present to anyone who finds them like this.

But he doesn't want this to end.

“Aeryn,” he says and brushing his lips against her skin, “I--”

A jolt rocks them hard; almost knocking Aeryn from his arms.

“Somebodies docking?” says Aeryn in dazed and hazy voice.

They share a brief wide-eye glance as they listen to the grinding cycle of the docking locks before scrambling to scoop up their discarded clothing. John just about pulls the EV suit back over his hips and tugs on his T-shirt when the door opens. Aeryn, still semi-naked, dives behind John and clutches at his back.

“D’Argo,” John stammers as the Luxan enters the pod and stands over as he takes in the scene, “what took you so long?”

“I... err,” D’Argo frowns, wrinkles his nose and his face splits into a knowing grin, “I had to find someone to help me.”

A bright eyed face, covered in heavy tattoos, peeks out from behind D'Argo, flashing them a cheeky black-toothed grin.

“Right.” says John.

“I think we should go,” D’Argo says with a wide-eyed smile, “I’ll give you two a moment to… ah, compose yourself.”

D'Argo leaves and John and Aeryn scramble into their clothing in silence. When they follow him to the other ship they avoid each other’s eyes.

 

~*~

 

Later, in the quiet aftermath, John stands in command staring out of the view-port. He isn’t looking at anything; he’s thinking about Aeryn. The whole crazy incredible affair replays through his mind over and over like an x-rated flip book. At the next console Aeryn stands with her eyes fixed on her hands as they rest on the control panel; John hasn’t seen her move for a while and she hasn't spoken at all.

There’s no way around it; it’s awkward.

John doesn't want it to be awkward and doesn’t want to make Aeryn uncomfortable. Truth be told he doesn’t know what he wants, but it hardly matters; if John has learnt anything since he arrived it’s that what he wants doesn’t doesn’t matter a damn. He takes a deep breath, licks his lips and decides to make it easy for them both.

“Heat of the moment,” he says with a glance at Aeryn.

“Exactly,” she agrees, far too quickly, in a flat and disinterested tone, “too much pure oxygen.”

“Affected our judgement.” John says, ”If had been you and D'Argo there, the same thing probably would have happened.”

“Or you and Zhaan.”

“Anyway,” John says with a thick swallow, eager to move away from that topic, “one thing's for sure - it’ll never... never happen again.”

“Never.”

“Never.”

“Never.”

John looks at his hands. _Never_. Now he's said it he really wishes he hadn’t. He glances up and catches Aeryn’s eye; he’s not sure, but he thinks he detects a hint of amusement in her inscrutable stare. He never can tell when she's messing with him, but he's willing to take a chance this time.

He strolls over and stands close behind her. He pauses for a moment, breathing in the scent of her hair and tracing a fingertip in light circles over the back of her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“Well, there is one thing we can be absolutely sure of,” he says, “You are definitely the female of your species.”

 

 


End file.
